


like real people do

by ImmodestMussorgsky



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, evan is a big sweetheart, i feel so bad for poor philip, philip is an unwilling killer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:40:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27547729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImmodestMussorgsky/pseuds/ImmodestMussorgsky
Summary: Philip materializes in a thick haze of black fog and collapses into the grass.He’s wracked with sobs-- or at least, the closest sounds to sobs he can produce, since the Entity didn’t feel the need to grant him a voice in this realm. They’re more akin to a soft, broken braying, barely audible in the desolate landscape that surrounds him. He thinks it’s evil that the Entity has relegated him to the darkest place he’s ever known. Autohaven is something he’d rather forget.He’s at least grateful that in all the torture, he’s allowed one good thing.Evan.
Relationships: Evan MacMillan | The Trapper/Philip Ojomo | The Wraith
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	like real people do

**Author's Note:**

> Evan and Philip are my sweet sweet killer sons and I could not help but write angsty fluff of them. More chapters coming soon!  
> Please leave comments if you enjoyed! They make my day <3

Philip materializes in a thick haze of black fog and collapses into the grass. 

He’s wracked with sobs-- or at least, the closest sounds to sobs he can produce, since the Entity didn’t feel the need to grant him a voice in this realm. They’re more akin to a soft, broken braying, barely audible in the desolate landscape that surrounds him. He thinks it’s evil that the Entity has relegated him to the darkest place he’s ever known. Autohaven is something he’d rather forget. 

He’s at least grateful that in all the torture, he’s allowed one good thing. 

Evan. 

Picking himself up from the cold dirt, he walks to the furthest reaches of his realm. It’s a small place, smaller than it appears in trials, and the only difference it beholds now is that the walls on its perimeter are replaced with dense foliage. He’s not totally sure how it works, but he knows that if he walks into the woods and thinks of the MacMillan Estate hard enough, he somehow… ends up there. His footfall is weary and sluggish. That last trial was particularly hard. All four survivors ended up escaping, and that’s not even what upsets him. It’s the fact that the Entity is going to punish him for this failure, somewhere, somehow. The bandages around his arms, legs, and torso are a constant reminder of her displeasure.

After what feels like forever, he emerges from the treeline and stumbles into the cool, moonlit air of the MacMillan Estate. He knows Evan is going to be here somewhere, unless he’s in a trial. But Philip is content to wait. He’ll sit there until the moon burns out if it’s Evan he’s waiting for. He makes his way to the dilapidated husk of a structure in the center. It’s a makeshift home of sorts, with a mess of blankets and pillows tucked away into one of its cozier corners and string lights pinned up around the windows. At least the Entity is generous with her rewards when the killers do what she wants them to. It’s the reason why Danny enjoys a fully furnished Philadelphia apartment while Philip gets a barren shack and threadbare blankets. It’s not like he needs them, anyway. Sleep is unnecessary in this realm. Sometimes, she’ll give him little prizes. His favorite is the little leatherbound sketchbook and fountain pen he was rewarded after a particularly successful trial. 

Evan at least appeases her enough to be granted a few creature comforts. A thick, plush mattress, a few duvets and fuzzy throw blankets that were reminiscent of his mother’s, fairy lights that he loved so much in the winter, and a small collection of his favorite books. It had taken a long, long string of punishments to finally break him. The hooks and slashes forever embedded in his skin are a reminder of that. Philip knows he should follow suit, but he can’t bring himself to willingly slaughter these innocent people. It’s the eternity he’s doomed to now, though, and sooner or later he’s going to have to comply with the Entity’s demands or face worsening punishments. 

He can’t imagine a life where he isn’t able to walk to Evan’s storehouse and let go of himself in his lover’s arms. But he knows that she’ll take that from him the moment he tries to disobey. 

Philip tiptoes into the empty warehouse and notices that the string lights around the windows have been left on, but the telltale tinkering sounds or snoring that Evan usually produces are absent. He calls out once-- not Evan’s name, but a low, curious sound that rumbles from the back of his throat. Content to sit and wait, he settles into the mattress on the floor and brings a soft blanket to his nose. It smells like  _ him _ . It calms Philip just enough for his breathing to slow and his body to relax. He nestles in between two thick pillows and closes his eyes. 

He doesn’t know how much time passes between him laying down and Evan returning, but he’s woken abruptly by the sound of heavy boots on the concrete floor of the warehouse. He sits bolt upright and clutches the blanket to his chest, glowing eyes wide in anticipation. Sure enough, the hulking figure in the shadows is exactly the person he wants to see, setting his gore-covered cleaver against the wall and removing his mask. It looks like he emerged from his trial successful, seeing as his step is confident and his movements are calm and steady. 

Philip chirps once to get his attention.

“Oh!” Evan jumps, startled, almost dropping his mask. “Philip.” A wide smile spreads across his dirty, sweat-streaked face. “You scared me, darlin’.” 

Philip tries to break into a smile of his own, but finally seeing his lover after a long string of failed trials opens the floodgates completely. He bursts into a fresh round of sobs, slumping over and wailing. It’s humiliating that he can’t control himself, so he covers his face and curls up in a ball. He hates burdening Evan like this. It’s not fair. 

“Philip, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Evan’s deep, rough voice takes on an edge of concern as he hurries over to the sobbing wreck in the corner. Plopping down on the mattress next to Philip, he pulls the trembling man in to sit on his lap. Evan’s arms feel so strong, so secure, so warm. Just the sensation of being held calms him enough to stop sucking in desperate breaths, but he’s still clearly distressed. He tries to sign something rapidly, but his hands are shaking too much for Evan to decipher what he’s saying. 

“Bad trials?” he murmurs into Philip’s ear. Philip nods vigorously, sniffling and dragging the back of his spindly hand across his eyes. He reclines into Evan’s lap and looks up at his face for a moment, taking in his strong features. One of the most dazzling things about seeing Evan is watching him take his mask off. He’s the picture of handsome, with thick, shapely brows and a square jaw. His cheekbones are chiseled and his lips look oh-so kissable. But Philip’s favorite part about his face is his eyes. They’re a beautiful, mossy green, with long, sleepy brown lashes. Everything about Evan seems hard and unforgiving, but his eyes tell Philip all he needs to know. They’re gentle and kind and look down at him with love, no matter what. 

He breaks into a fresh round of tears, but not for the same reason anymore. He doesn’t know why Evan even bothers with him. In this realm, he’s nothing but a gnarled, misshapen monster of a man. His face is marred with deep, bark-like grooves, his eyes nothing but glowing white pinpricks. His lips are dry and hard. Why does Evan enjoy kissing them? His hands are cold and bony, and must not be pleasant to hold. But the worst thing is his inability to speak. He curses the Entity every day for robbing him of his voice. The only sounds he can produce are inhuman and indecipherable to anybody except for his lover. 

“It’s okay, my love. It’s okay. I’m here. She can’t hurt you when you’re with me.” Evan strokes Philip’s shoulder and nestles his lips into the crook of his neck. It’s not true. The Entity can whisk him away on a whim. But she never seems to, when the two are together. “Shh, shh. Let’s calm down and talk about it.” 

By  _ talk about it  _ he means that he’ll sit there, ever patient, slowly deciphering Philip’s careful sign language. Evan’s sign lexicon is limited, but he can usually guess what Philip is trying to sign by fingerspelling or context. He lifts the smaller man easily by the waist and sets him down in front of him. Philip takes in a long, shuddering breath, trying to calm his shaky hands, and then begins slowly fingerspelling. 

_ STUNNED ME,  _ he signs, lip quivering.  _ HEAD HURTS. _

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” 

_ SHE WILL PUNISH ME.  _

That Evan can’t provide comfort for or dispute, because he knows that as soon as Philip leaves the Estate he’s going to be completely at the Entity’s mercy. 

  
“Not as long as you’re here with me.” 

_ WHY DO YOU LOVE ME? _

He’s taken aback by that question, running his hand through his short buzzed hair. “What do you mean, Philip? I love you for a lot of reasons.”

_ WHAT REASONS? _

Evan chuckles. “Well... 

You’re so gentle and so kind. You know what’s right and what’s wrong. You’re not afraid to disobey her even if you know you’ll face consequences because you just can’t bring yourself to harm innocent people. I think that’s admirable.”

Philip blinks and gestures for him to continue.

“You provide me with such comfort and love that it’s impossible not to give you some back. You’re smart. You’re a great listener, a patient lover, and a fantastic artist. You’re also  _ breathtaking _ .” At this, Evan cups Philip’s cheek in a calloused hand. He rubs his thumb over the curve of Philip’s jaw, brushes it across his slightly parted lips. “Your eyes are full of soul. Your touch is so gentle and so sweet. And,” he grins playfully, “you’ve got a  _ lovely  _ little butt.” 

Philip erupts into short barks of laughter, eyes crinkling at the corners. The tears have long since faded and have been replaced by a warm, glowing contentment. He nuzzles his face into Evan’s shoulder and allows himself to melt into his chest, purring softly when Evan pulls a blanket up over Philip and places a kiss on his forehead. 

Philip squeezes Evan’s hand gently and points at the dust next to the mattress, then slowly spells something out in neat, small handwriting. 

_ I love you _

“I love you too, Philip.” 

  
  



End file.
